


Ecophobia

by Kosho



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alistair (Dragon Age) is a Good Friend, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Home, King Cousland, M/M, Named Cousland (Dragon Age), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Dragon Age: Origins Quest - Morrigan's Ritual, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Sweet Zevran Arainai, Zevran Arainai Flirts, Zevran Arainai being Zevran Arainai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23535328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho
Summary: Varadin Cousland killed the archdemon, and went home, but it's not as joyous as he imagined.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Cousland
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sinister_Kid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinister_Kid/gifts).



> Did this one for my friend :D. 
> 
> The basic canon is that he performed the ritual, married Anora, and is currently still in a romance with Zevran.

Varadin was back home, Highever was looking far better after the archdemon had been slain. It felt strange being home, felt uncomfortable. After months of constant fighting just to live another day, to do the impossible had taken a great toll. This on top of watching his house fall to treachery, to see his dying father drenched in his own blood, the look on his mother’s face as she said she was staying behind. That image engraved itself upon his eyelids, there always when he closed his eyes. 

Anora, still privately grieving the loss of Cailan, had been incredibly understanding. She expected nothing of him, more than capable of handling affairs on her own, and clever enough to find appropriate excuses for his absences. He was asked after, but not missed. He'd been directed to take time off, return home and see what if anything could be done instead. Highever felt like a graveyard now, the ground soaked in blood long since cleaned. Alistair had been frequenting the castle lately as well. The memory of Duncan still lingering as though that too had only just happened. 

Zevran was the most understanding. Hadn't abandoned him even after his very political marriage to Anora, she was fine, but there was no real love in either direction. The man once hired by her father to put him in the ground still stealing his heart was still quite humorous to him. He'd never once wondered what it might be like to be with another man prior to meeting Zev. Yet somehow it was impossible not to fall for his charm. 

Of course, there was Morrigan too. He'd likely never be able to provide Anora an heir, the taint he willingly given himself when he became a Warden was the very thing that would create that problem later on. Varadin hadn't even begun to consider how to explain he, in fact, did have a child, somewhere now, or how to broach the subject of how and why it came to be that way. Blood magic, probably. Blood magic his own faith dictated he never should have agreed to, the same forbidden magic that had saved his life when he should have lost it. It felt cowardly and left him feeling wrong somehow. To say nothing of the child itself, a convenient thing that he could not be sure she’d want, or care for. The idea of effectively abandoning a child he should be raising should be taking responsibility for went against his own morality, but the sudden news he might have to die to save the world had soured in the pit of his stomach, inducing the most cowardly feelings he'd ever experienced. 

No one who knew held it against him, and that was the real punch to the gut. How could anyone condone what he had done, let alone forgive him for it? It was that weight which harassed his sleep, left him sweating, gasping, shocked awake in a human-shaped pile of shame and regret. Zevran woke easily, a hand already smoothing his drenched hair without concern. He pulled him closer, the sound of his heartbeat enough to calm him, bring him back to now. 

He wasn't back at the castle, fleeing for his life to leave his mother and father to die, he wasn't still standing over his nephew’s corpse, while the Arl’s lackeys killed off servants, guests and family alike. He was in bed, safe, sobbing into his lover’s chest like a bullied child. 

”The nightmares again?” he asked quietly. 

”Always is...I used to love this place, to feel safe here...now I hate it.” He lamented. “A reminder of all my failings…” 

“My offer is still good, amore. We can go anywhere you wish...I’m here, you’ll never shake me now…” Zevran assured softly, kissing his head. 

“Anora could do things alone, it’s true. She’s more than capable. I’m…not ready to give up yet. Someday, I may take you up on that…” he said, wiping his eyes irritably. “I’m sorry to be like this…”

“You think I mind?” He asked. “I didn’t fall for you because you were a pillar of strength, be weak if you need it. I’ll be your strength…” 

”I don't deserve you…” Varadin sighed. 

Zevran grinned a bit at that, cupping his face, tilting his head for a quick kiss. ”There is time to work on this. I don't believe that for a moment, but if you do, then become a man deserving of me. I assure you, you are already.” 

Varadin sat up, sliding out of bed to grab a fresh change of clothes, chastising himself under his breath as he did, disappearing briefly to wash away the sweat and rinse out his hair before returning. Eyes still red, he had at least managed to compose himself. 

”Anora, Morrigan, you've never confronted me either…” he said. 

”Why would I? You clearly do not love either, and let's face it. I'd be much more disappointed had you died. I see it as necessary arrangements, nothing more. Anora has been kind and understanding, it's true. However, we both know she does not actually love you. I feel no need for jealousy. Not when I've just awoken in your bed and was the one whose, admittedly very handsome chest caught your tears.” Zevran explained. 

Varadin laughed a bit at that, and it was a relief to see. He didn’t smile or laugh nearly enough these days, and he suspected it was partly that he no longer had an enemy, nothing left to keep him from stopping to think about the things weighing most heavily on him. 

“You do have a very nice chest.” Varadin conceded. 

“Oh? Is that so?” He asked. 

“Zev, you’re gorgeous, and you know it.” He said. “That’s something I have said to no other man, and will never say to anyone but you.” 

“Please, if you keep that up, I might blush, ser.” He said with some degree of seriousness, save that he couldn’t hide that grin. “Now, what I think you need is a distraction. I’ve grown accustomed to how you Wardens work.” 

“Zev...I… don’t really feel up to it.” Varadin admitted guiltily. 

“Not everything has to be sex, amore.” he observed. ”I was thinking a short walk to go and raid the kitchen might help.” 

About to insist he wasn't hungry, the loud rumbling of his stomach cut off that protest, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, gesturing to the door after a few moments of silence, spent trying to figure out how to respond to it. 

”...Yeah...maybe that's a good idea. If I forget, remind me to increase the kitchen staff pay. They never signed up for that much…” he said. ”Actually, I never had a problem with being a Warden, even though I had no real choice in the matter, but I  _ didn't  _ agree to needing so much of anything just to feel satisfied. Twelve pints for a little buzz, a meal enough to feed a family of four just to feel full…” 

”Several rounds with your favorite former Crow to wear you out.” Zev added. 

”That too. Not that I'm complaining in that respect. Perhaps you're just very good at what you do.” Varadin said with a shrug. 

”Well, I have said the only rule should be that it be done well.” He pointed out. 

”True enough. I believe we were heading to the kitchen?” Varadin pouted. ”my stomach is trying to eat itself.” 

”We can't have that.” Zev chuckled, wandering over and offering his arm. ”I wonder if there's still any of those little cakes…?” 

”I’d say there might be, but realistically, Alistair probably beat us there...” he sighed. 

  
  
  



	2. Orders

Varadin stared at the messenger, his faithful mabari growling at him the moment he picked up on his displeasure at the news. That he was picked to be the new Warden-Commander was not news. That he was expected to make use of Riordan’s notes on the Joining was also not news. Ferelden sorely needed new wardens, after all. The official order demanded he go to Amaranthine  _ was _ . Unpleasant news at that. Frankly, if the royal seal wasn’t on it, he might have believed it a joke and a cruel one at that. 

It was his duty, sure. For that, he couldn’t fault anyone in particular, but sending him to the arling last ruled by Rendon Howe, the very same man who plotted against his house, orchestrated the murder of his family? That was almost too much. Barktholomew seemed to pick up on his sudden shift in mood and chased away the messenger before returning to his side, nudging his hand and licking his palm. He whined worriedly, and Varadin absently scratched behind his ears. He was there, but not. On the one hand, this meant he would be spared several months of dealing with the local nobility and all the boredom that went along with the most mundane of day to day. The other? Spending months wandering the halls of a man he hated like no other while walking a delicate tightrope of not letting it fester, and not taking it out on any of his theoretical charges. 

Not many Wardens at all during the blight. Riordan seemed a good man, but he had died. Duncan has recruited him, and he died in the same grim fields that King Cailan had. That left him and Alistair as examples. Alistair was a fine man to emulate but had only a fraction of his demeanor these days. No. It would be Duncan. Not one to coddle, stern, but patient and fair. He could force himself to manage that. 

That’s what he thought, at least, but as he turned to go inside, it caught up with him again. He pressed his brow to the cold stone, weakly punching it, his hand might bruise, but it seemed the only way he could handle the surge of anger and sadness welling up inside of him. He barely registered the plaintive barking to try and convince him to stop before it faded into the distance. Unbelievable that this was what he had been reduced to. 

He heard soft, but quick steps coming towards him, and instinct had him quickly drawing his daggers. 

“Whoa! Hey, it’s me! Please don’t stab me.” Alistair announced. 

Varadin hesitantly put them back, wiping his eyes before he turned to face him. Alistair noted his bloody knuckles, kneading his brow as though he understood but felt particularly unqualified to offer any meaningful advice. He used to be a man who appreciated his joking and returned it in kind, a sharp wit that made such dry sarcasm lighten any dark times. This was not the time for jokes, and that made it more difficult to find the words. Gesturing to the parchment clenched in his other fist, he frowned. 

“So...bad news, I take it?” He asked instead. 

“Only to me.” He replied angrily. “How could anyone ask this of me? Why does it have to be me?” 

“I...really don’t know. I’ve got no idea what it says, Var…” he said delicately. 

He stared at the parchment accusingly before he handed it over. Alistair read through it a few times, not missing the seal that said it was official. No chance it was a prank in poor taste, but an official order, under his wife’s authority, no less. That had to sting even worse. 

“This...I can’t believe it. Bad enough you have to be surrounded by all these reminders already but to have to actually go to Amaranthine too? Vigil’s Keep, it says? Perhaps...maybe that won’t be so bad? I mean...assuming he hasn’t completely trashed the place… do you want me to go with you?” He asked sympathetically. 

“No...no. It’s bad enough you had to see me like this. I can’t ask you to do that. I’d actually prefer it if you stayed here. Fergus is away often enough that I’m not sure someone  _ else _ won’t try to take advantage of my absence. You, I trust. You had so many opportunities to hurt me if you intended and you never did. I can trust you with my home.” Varadin conceded. 

“What about Zevran? Will you tell him?” He asked. 

Part of him wanted to skip out without a word. Zevran would follow without question, and putting him in harm’s way again was not in his plans. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have him around. He wasn’t sure, his head was a complete mess. Anora probably didn’t have a ton of choice on the matter either. The nobility just got louder and more outspoken the longer their demands were ignored. His mother and father always made it look so easy before, and now, he was finding out it was harder than he anticipated. 

“I can’t just not tell him. I don’t want to be the kind of man that just leaves a note on the way out. I’m also sure if I don’t, he’ll just track me down anyway…” he said upon realization of that fact. “There’s no keeping him away, so on that note…”

He turned to face Barktholomew. “Will you stay here and keep Alistair safe?” 

He whined and hung his head at that, begrudgingly looking up at him like he’d do it if he had to. It hurt his heart. He already regretted having to leave him with the others when he faced the archdemon. He couldn’t do that again. 

“I suppose you can come with if you want. Won’t be as nice as here, it’s a lot of hard work you know?” He said. 

Barktholomew leaped and spun, barking excitedly. The small stub of his tail wagged furiously, a wide, toothy smile on his face. 

“Ah, sorry Alistair. Looks like you’ll be lacking good company.” Varadin sighed. 

“I mean you could have just let me come with, I’m a Warden too, it’s not like  _ I  _ could help out with new recruits…” Alistair muttered under his breath. 

“You do that and you get to draft the letter to explain just how  _ furious _ I’m going to be if I come back and someone’s taken my castle yet again,” Varadin said. 

“Rather do that than stay here and do nothing…” he huffed. 

“What? Stay here in a nice bed with silk sheets and raid my larder and the kitchen whenever you feel like it? Yes, perish the thought. The life of luxury is so hard.” He said unsympathetically. 

“You got me there. Surely if you’re inducting new Wardens, however, this Vigil’s Keep must be well-stocked?” Alistair questioned. 

“Damn. I guess so…and if the beds are terrible, I could always just go ransack Howe’s place and see how his ghost likes being invaded in the middle of the night.” He spat. “ _ I deserved more” _ was right. He deserved to come back a few times so I could kill him a few more times…” 

Alistair would have tried to console him somehow, but honestly, he wasn’t wrong. Much as he’d normally disapprove of that kind of talk, what was he supposed to do when he understood. King Cailan, the other Wardens, Duncan, Loghain had taken them, tried to kill the Arl, and sent an assassin after them. He was dead in the ground too, but there were times the same thought went through his head. “Get up. Get up you bastard, so I can stab you again…” and the crushing pain of regret, heartache and no longer having an enemy had eaten at him too in such a way. 

“Well, if  _ Zevran _ and the  _ dog _ get to go, I’m not staying here while you’re off eating all the good cheese,” Alistair said decisively. 

“Has anyone told you that the two of you act more like siblings than anything?” Zevran said, looking down at them from up on the wall. 

“Let me guess. I’d ask how long you’ve been there, you’re going to say ‘long enough’ right?” Alistair asked. 

“Just so. When are we leaving?” He asked, raising a brow. 

“Much as I hate having to go, I intend to set off tomorrow morning.” He said. “No idea how long we’ll be gone, it doesn’t tell me that much.” 

“Fine by me. I’ll be ready. Now, how about you let me take care of your hand?” Zevran asked. 

“Why ask, you won’t let me refuse.” He snorted under his breath. 

“A fair point. Meet me inside then.” He said. 

“At least it won’t be boring?” Alistair suggested. 

“Boredom was never my concern with this trip…”Varadin mumbled, heading in. 


	3. Chapter 3

Several days of travel and already an immediate battle against darkspawn. This keep was already planning to be nothing but trouble. Varadin had already been pestered to meet the attendants, or...whatever their roles were. Even had a shopkeeper and a rune setter here too. Better still was that this place, for all the trouble it had already caused, felt nothing like he expected it might. Could have belonged to anyone, honestly. 

Might not be so bad after all. Better still, already a familiar face from those not quite so far off battles that made the bulk of the Blight. Still drunk and dirty as ever, but no doubt that could only be Oghren. 

“Heh. So your brand new wife stuck you out here. Must be a record. Already tired of you.” He joked. 

Without missing a beat, he shot back. “Well, at least  _ mine _ didn’t run to the Deep Roads without me.” 

“More exciting than staying home, right?” He shrugged. 

As though he had summoned her just by talking, Anora shuffled in with some guards. Didn’t miss the look on the recently acquired apostate’s face either. Guessing they knew each other. 

“Come to check on me already? Haven’t even had a chance to breathe.” He said. 

Anora glanced at his company over his shoulder, waving him away to talk. 

“I couldn’t exactly deny the suggestion. I made a point of mentioning that Alistair is also a Warden and would serve just fine in your place. They felt it best the one who slew the Archdemon be put in charge. I would not have put this on you otherwise. I don’t expect you to believe me, but there you have it.” She explained. 

“Just because I don’t find fault with that explanation does not also mean I’m going to smile and insist it’s all fine. It should have been my choice, not something forced on me. Still, it isn’t truly  _ you  _ I’m mad a—“ he stopped abruptly, marching back over when her guard grabbed Anders, fit to drag him away. “No, you take no one from this place without an explanation. You came with Anora, so you must know  _ exactly  _ who I am.” 

“Your Majesty, this man is an apostate, and a murderer besides. He has fled the Circle a number of times. I intend to reclaim him.” She said. 

Varadin folded his arms across his chest, glancing back to Anora, then to the Templar, then to Anders. He grinned almost devilishly. So long as he was stuck here, it seemed he had a bit of pull after all. Maybe poking everyone more than was wise would be a fine way to pass the time. 

“That’s a fine idea!” He said, nodding. “Except…” 

“Except what?” She asked. 

“Except...see I don’t know how you’re going to do that, when I’ve exercised the Rite of Conscription…” he said as though he genuinely felt bad. He didn’t. He glanced to Anders, trying to impress upon him with his eyes that this was his only way of preventing this. “Isn’t that right?” 

Anders frowned. He didn’t really want to be a Warden, but it had to be at least better than being dragged kicking and screaming back to the Circle. “Yes, in fact he did!”

“Yeah, see? Sorry about that, but he belongs here. Training and all that.” He said. “As you no doubt seen on your way in, many of our Orlesian fellows did not survive the battle, and after the Blight, we need to replenish our numbers here, can’t spare even one possible candidate.” 

“Anora, you can’t possibly -“ the Templar began to argue. 

“I’m afraid I’m in agreement with my husband on this matter.” Anora said calmly. 

Well, perhaps she really did feel bad about sticking him there after all. Suppose it really didn’t matter one way or another whether they got along so long as they looked united. Of course that was very hard to do when he was this far away. Then again, he didn’t truly care so much if she took complete control at this point. At first the decision to marry her was just a way to spare Alistair having to do it and to ensure she was held accountable, but by now, he figured it didn’t matter. If he was going to be the Warden-Commander, that was getting the bulk of his focus then. 

Varadin watched as Oghren, Alistair, Zev and Mhairi stepped in front of Anders, Alistair waving him to finish his conversation. 

“Thanks for that. Anyway...looks like this isn’t shaping up to be just induction and training of new Wardens, you didn’t see the swarms in the keep. There’s an access point somewhere, and I’ve been told they should have retreated. No idea what I’m dealing with. I’ll keep you posted.” He said

“If that’s truly the case, then I am quite glad I didn’t leave Alistair in charge.” She said with a quiet laugh. “It’s not that I don’t think he could do it, but I believe you will at least take it seriously. That and I think some part of you misses the fighting anyway. This might be good for you.” 

He could give her that much. It would be well if it helped at least a little. He recalled being told all or...at least most Wardens had nightmares. The darkspawn dreams were the easiest. It was those that predated his becoming a Warden at all that were the hardest to deal with. He must have been silent far longer than he realized, when he snapped out of his thoughts, Anora was already well down the road. 

“So tell me this place has a bath? One of those nice marble baths. I could consider this place livable with that much.” He questioned the caretaker. 

“Of course. There’s a communal bath, but also a smaller, private one in the main bedroom. Before you ask, yes, that’s the room you will be in. However, I’d recommend we complete the Joining first, at least.” He said. 

“Fine, let’s get on with it then.” Varadin sighed. 

Alistair stood by almost on instinct, probably felt it was part of his duty by now, given that he had watched during his Joining as well. At least there was no shortage of Archdemon blood now.

He and Alistair had to stifle collective laughs as Oghren complained about how small the cup was, before he drained the whole thing at once, belched loudly, all without collapsing in the same way he had. Figured the drunken dwarf would be just fine. Anders was next, falling over almost immediately. Varadin knelt down by him, fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. He was alive at least. So far so good. Mhairi, as he had found out, had served in the army. Another witness to the horrors of Ostagar. She was kind. Wielded a blade quite well. A good potential Warden. He watched her drink, saw her collapse, writhing in pain before she stopped moving. He sighed heavily. No need to check, he had witnessed that at his own Joining. A real shame, for as determined and strong as she was, it had no bearing, it seemed. 

“Poor girl.” Alistair sighed. 

“She deserved better.” Varadin said. “Honestly, I’m not sure what to do with just two extra Wardens… hopefully these aren’t the last recruits we’ll see here. Then again, the Blight just ended and it’s been four hundred years since the last before it, right? Could it really be possible that another would actually come before we could replenish the numbers anyway?” 

Alistair shrugged at that. “I suppose anything is possible, regardless of how unlikely it seems. If nothing else, it’ll be useful to have them here if something worrisome is really happening.” 

“Ugh. Fair enough.” He muttered. “Wardens, dismissed. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow after lunch we’ll discuss what we know about the darkspawn here, and figure out where to start.” 

“One other matter, ser.” The man said quietly. “I’d recommend you look in the dungeons tomorrow. There’s a thief down there. Not your average, I might add. Took a lot of effort to catch him. Your keep, your punishment.” 

“Very well, I’ll go see this thief before the meeting. Intriguing how it took so much to capture one man. Then again, my dog and Zevran over there -“ he began, pausing to return the wave he offered when he heard his name. “Actually rescued Alistair and I from the dungeons of Fort Drakon, so I mean...perhaps this thief could be useful. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be retiring for the night.” 

Zevran followed as he said that, Alistair sticking around to ask where his room would be, Barktholomew trotting off, not thinking twice about abandoning him in the hall. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this didn’t end up like I wanted it to be. I’ll probably edit it eventually, but here, have some vague smut.

Varadin sat at the edge of the bath, eyes pointed at the water, feet slipping in, but he wasn’t there. Not the usual look that said he was another lifetime away. This one was different, said he was trying to feel comfortable in a place he never wanted to be. 

Zevran abandoned the towel around his waist on the way in,pausing near him, lips hovering by his ear. 

“Come, my warden. I’ll wash your back.” He suggested. 

“Zev...this place doesn’t feel like home. I don’t know if it can…” he muttered. 

Despite that, he waded in slowly, groaning in relief when the warmth washed over stiff muscles and scars that hadn’t yet begun to fade. Zevran straddled his thighs lazily, cradling his head when it dropped back. He pressed his lips over the hollow of his throat, slowly moving upward until he found his mouth, nipping just enough to get him to open up for him. His fingers curled over his shoulders, kneaded the tension away slowly, expertly. He smiled when he broke from him, shaking his head. 

“You have no home, not one that satisfies you. You found the castle wanting, your home is tainted, and this place is too dark for one such as you. What’s to be done about that…” he murmured thoughtfully. Drawing his hand to his chest, he held his palm over his heart. “Shall I be your home, as you are mine? This is the heart you spared, and it has beat for you and only you for so long...let me be for you what no other shelter can be…” 

Varadin lifted his head slightly, staring at him, examining his features, returning each time to his eyes. Exhaling a lazy laugh, he smiled. The ghost of something brighter, once. 

“You have such a way with words…it’s no wonder people want you…” he sighed. “I constantly thank the Maker that I am ‘people’.” 

“Oh my, was that a joke? Are you joking again? I’ve missed that.” He admitted. 

Varadin reached for him, drawing him in for another kiss. His lips folded around his lower lip, sucking and tugging in invitation. His tongue was relief, water on a hot day, the cooling breeze on a scorching summer day. Zev reaches between them, slowly trailing his palm down his chest, over his abdomen, along his thighs, and around his shaft. Varadin pulled away long enough to tease just a bit. 

“My dear, that’s not my back…” he said with a grin. 

“Oh? Forgive me. I must have forgotten what I knew of bodies…” he said. “Ahh, but it seems you’re responding.” 

“Perhaps we should wait on the bath. I’d rather not be pruny now, and have to bathe again later…” he suggested. 

“Mm, a good point. Shall I have you in the bed? On the floor? Or perhaps the table? I recall you seemed to enjoy that…” he asked thoughtfully. 

“You know...it’s been one of those days, and given how we met, I may regret this.  _ Surprise me. _ ” Varadin told him. 

“Have you begun to come back to me?” He asked. 

Stepping out, he beckoned him to follow. He had spent so much time leading, it was a relief to be able to follow. It had taken precious little convincing to decide that was what he liked best. At least when it came to Zev. He stood there, finger curled at his chin, glancing around the room with all the same scrutiny he would give an ambush, the rare few times they’d managed to sneak up on groups of bandits. His eyes landed on the floor, by the fireplace. It was familiar, reminded him of the nights at the small camp, and perhaps Varadin would appreciate that. He wandered over to the bed, the bedding new, clean. Someone clearly had considered he may not wish to sleep in a bed that had any part of it used by the man he credited with destroying his life. 

He grabbed a pillow, trimmed in lavish gold embroidery, a thick blanket, some manner of fur. Not bear, perhaps deer lining the top, thick and soft on the bottom layer. He came back, setting the pillow down first, spreading out the blanket. 

“Well...feeling nostalgic?” He asked. Varadin eyed the blanket, spreading out on it, breathing in the scent of the fire. His hands brushed against the soft fur of the blanket, his eyes half closed, fixed on him. “It’s worth reliving. You made those nights bearable…” 

Zev stretched out beside him, dancing his fingertips across his chest, kissing the junction of his neck and shoulder. He raised a hand, slipping into his hair, brilliant gold contrasting with clay skin. He knew what to expect, and it shocked in the pit of his stomach in anticipation. His teeth trailed gently over his skin, slow, before he bit firmly, reveling in the shiver it sent through him. Grabbing his free hand, he draped it over his hip, his eyes closing for a moment, breathing in when his hand wandered from his back, over his hip and along his thigh. He had the barest of calluses that contrasted perfectly. 

Kissing across his throat, he bit the opposite side, and Varadin tugged his hair, groaning softly, turning into a low gasp when his hand landed between his thighs, rocking his hips slowly against his hand, his eyes sliding shut, biting his lip loosely. 

“Been a while since I’ve seen that face, and so quickly too…” Zevran murmured. 

“Exactly. It’s been a while. I realize that’s on me, but we can skip ahead quicker if you’re feeling kind.” He replied. 

“Straight to the point, hmm? If that is your desire, who am I to deny you?” He chuckled. 

Zevran moved away, laughing in amusement when he turned onto his stomach, turning his head to watch him. He grabbed a small bottle, returning to his side. Varadin got to his knees, keeping his head on the pillow, too comfortable to move completely. He pulled the stopper, bending to kiss his back briefly, nipping at his hip. He arched up with the first dripping digit, pushed back with the second, and moaned into the pillow when he spread them, offering a quiet, empty whine when they disappeared. 

“It’s been a while. Are you certain this is what you want? This isn’t for my benefit, is it?” Zev asked, concerned. 

“I know...maybe it’s just because this has been a lot to deal with. I need...I need something familiar, something that doesn’t require me to handle anything more than being with you and forgetting anything past those doors…” sighing some, he added. “I probably don’t tell you nearly enough, but I love you. Right now, I need you…” 

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He assured him. 

Varadin lightly bit the curve of his wrist attempting to mute himself, pushing back against him. His eyes moved to the door. Alistair and Oghren had travelled with them long enough to know precisely what to expect, he was certain they’d gotten all the jokes and awkward conversations out of their systems, but he’d rather not have to do that thing where he had to make an attempt at conversation on the receiving end of that look that said “I know what you were doing but I’m pretending I don’t so it doesn’t have to be discussed.” Hopefully the others had taken his advice and gone to bed already. 

He felt the movement, hands on his chest, lips against his ear and the soft nip accompanying it. He turned his head slightly, moved almost on his lap. 

“I couldn’t resist, it’s more satisfying to have you like this…” he said. 

“As if I would complain.” Varadin snorted. 

  
  



End file.
